


Safe and Sound

by Krank



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24319105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krank/pseuds/Krank
Summary: Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fireWith nothing left, Merlin uses everything he has to make Arthur comfortable
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	Safe and Sound

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago, back when Merlin was ending. I remembered it and decided it needed to be shared! Inspired by "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift for the Hunger Games soundtrack, as you might be able to tell...
> 
> Probably the most depressing thing I've ever written.
> 
> Enjoy xx

_“Arthur! Arthur, look out!”_

_“Merlin, get out of here!”_

_“I’m not leaving you, Arthur.”_

Merlin never thought it would come to this.

A neighbouring kingdom had descended upon Camelot and had spread like an infection. Her towns were raided, her people slain. The Citadel had held, however, and days later Arthur led his army from the safety of its walls in to battle. When they were nearly to the front lines, word came that the Citadel had been taken; the Queen safely bundled in to an unmarked caravan on its way to the border.

Camelot’s men, now nothing if not disheartened, charged in with swords held high and the fertile fields of Camelot were quickly soaked in blood. The battle itself had lasted mere hours.

To Merlin it had felt like an eternity.

He had gone in to the entire situation with, now looking back on it, a slightly inflated ego. He had _magic_ and _Arthur_ and Camelot’s army was the finest around. However, even the powers of ‘ _Emrys’_ weren’t enough against ten thousand men and all the faith in the world in Arthur and Excalibur would not strike down every threat.

Merlin soon discovered how easy his life had been up until that very day.

_Swords clashed and bodies fell around him, but the only thing on Merlin’s mind was Arthur. He tossed men, and probably some boys, through the air, creating a clear path for himself to search for his King. They had quickly been separated once the fighting began and Merlin was unable to keep up. Now, hours later, there was a feeling of dread swelling in his veins as he himself physically weakened._

_It was when he felt his stomach lurch and his knees buckle that he knew: Arthur had fallen. Of course, having come to a complete halt in the midst of a raging battle, it took little time for Merlin himself to be cut down by the clean slice of an enemy sword._

_He remembered little after that._

_When he finally roused, the air was eerily quiet. The metallic smell of bloodshed overwhelmed his senses as he struggled in to sitting position. The wound across his abdomen sang but his adrenaline allowed him to ignore it. He looked out over the field and his heart jumped in to his throat:_

_So many cloaks, all Camelot red, were scattered as far as he could see. For every cloak, a noble body lay with it. The sea of crimson was peppered with enemy colors, but not nearly enough for it to amount to anything. They had lost._

_“Arthur.” Merlin hobbled along, clutching mightily at his front as if he were trying to hold his life in. “ARTHUR!”_

Wrangling dragons, fighting off fairies, even _Morgana_ … Those things were all so simple compared to this. All of those things were dealt with individually, and for the most part they turned out okay. He had gotten Arthur through all of those hard times. Despite all that he had done and all that he had learned, though, he was unable to get Arthur through full on war.

_“Merlin.”_

_He fell to his knees beside his King, his world blurring for just a moment. Arthur had a wound dead centre on his chest; his chainmail stained deep rust. His eyes were searching and his face was pale. He took quick, gasping breaths._

_“Arthur.” Merlin placed his hand on him._

_“Merlin.”_

_“Arthur, I’m here.” When Merlin saw a gloved hand rise, he latched on to it greedily._

_“Don’t… leave me. Please.”_

_“Arthur, I would never leave you,” Merlin whispered, watching the tears spill from his dear friend’s eyes. It had been so long since he’d seen Arthur cry._

_Merlin knew that this was the end. He had scarce magic left in him – not nearly enough to even begin to heal Arthur’s wounds. He felt guilty and helpless as he watched his King slipping in front of him. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. They had so much left to do. It was then that Merlin decided:_

_Arthur’s last breaths could not happen in a field. The last thing he saw would not be a grey sky, with the smell of death hanging in the air. It simply didn’t suit him. Thus, after retrieving Excalibur from the mud, Merlin held Arthur tightly and, with all the power he had left, whisked him away… Some place safe._

“Merlin.”

“Yes, Arthur?” Merlin turned away from the window in Arthur’s chambers. Back where it all began, really. Merlin began his ‘destiny’ in these chambers, scrubbing floors and waking up stubborn princes.

He tried not to wince as his shirt caught on his sword wound. Every breath he took was more difficult than the last.

“Help me to the window.”

Merlin looked out again at what was once a strong and proud city. Fires burned in the citadel, and beyond the castle walls more smoke rose in to the air. Camelot was burning. There were bodies in the streets, various items dropped and abandoned when her people had run for their lives. Merlin only hoped that some of them were lucky. He hoped that Gwen’s caravan had made it across the border in to Ealdor. He hoped there was even a small possibility that Gwen may be happy again someday, and that his mother would not mourn him for too long and forget to live.

“You’re too injured, Arthur.” Merlin said quietly. The air was still, not another sound in a castle that usually never slept.

“Merlin, I want to see my kingdom,” Arthur rasped, shifting hopelessly on his bed.

Merlin carefully made his way to his King’s side and took a seat beside him. He had somehow managed to remove Arthur’s armour and mail without jarring him too much. He now lay in his gambeson, caked in dirt and blood. Excalibur lay beside him, shining.

“Remember Camelot for the kingdom that it was.”

“ _Merlin_ –“

“Please, Arthur,” Merlin pleaded, finally feeling the tears welling in his eyes. “What good will it do to see her this way. What lays beyond that window is not Camelot.” 

Arthur dropped the subject.

Merlin discarded his muddy boots on the floor and painfully wrestled out of his coat, careful not to make a sound. He sat against the solid wood headboard, Arthur’s head leaning against his right leg. The King was running a fever, and his eyes were distant.

“Who said you could lay on my bed?” Arthur snapped in a weak jest.

“Prat,” Merlin muttered back, running his fingers through blond, matted hair.

“Are you alright, Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“Of course I’m alright, Arthur. Aren’t I always?” Merlin’s attempt at making fun of himself fell rather flat. He was just grateful that Arthur was too unaware to notice that Merlin was indeed wounded and bleeding.

“That’s true. You always manage to make it out of things unscathed. With how clumsy you are I’m surprised you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet. Thank God for that magic of yours.”

Merlin couldn’t hold back a smile. He never imagined Arthur ever saying those words to him. They had come a long way.

“How do you feel, Arthur?” Merlin asked softly, seeing Arthur’s eyelids droop.

“Tired. Tell me a story, Merlin.”

“What are you, six?”

“No, I’m your King. Tell me a story.”

Merlin paused for a moment.

“Did I ever tell you about Freya?”

Merlin happily recounted the time that he had saved Freya’s life and purposely went against Uther’s orders. He told of who she was, how she came to be, and all about her home in the mountains by a lake. He told of how he had decided to run away with her.

“Did you love Freya?” Arthur asked, eyes now closed.

Merlin thought for a moment. “I think I could have. In another life – in a _normal_ life, we could have settled down. I would have been more than content.”

“I wish things had been different. I wish I could have met her. She sounds lovely.”

Merlin decided not to mention the fact that Arthur probably would meet Freya. And that Merlin would get to introduce him.

The minutes stretched on and Merlin could feel his fingers going numb. He continued to pet Arthur’s hair, sensing the calm that it brought. It became more difficult to force the breath from his lungs, but he hid his gasps well. It wouldn’t do Arthur any good to worry.

Arthur wasn’t doing much better. He had become impossibly pale, looking very sickly. The sweat poured from his brow and there was a small tremor in the hands that rested on his stomach. An awful sound rattled through his chest.

“I failed, Merlin.”

Merlin took a deep breath.

“You mean _we_ failed, Arthur.”

“I’m the _King_! This is entirely my fault,” Arthur shuddered out a strangled sob. “I let my kingdom down.”

“Oh please,” Merlin shot. “Don’t downplay my role in all of this. Not at a moment like this, Arthur.” He chuckled painfully.

Arthur coughed and Merlin saw a bead of blood seep in to the corner of his lips. Not yet. Merlin just needed one more minute; one more hour. He would even sell his soul for just one more day.

“We’ll do this right next time.”

Arthur craned his neck so he could look up at Merlin. He raised an eyebrow. “Next time, Merlin? I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m d –“

“Oh! Didn’t I tell you, Arthur? We’re going to live forever.” Merlin slid down the headboard, stretching his legs out beside Arthur. He felt a little like he was drowning.

“You failed to mention,” Arthur mused, letting more of his weight rest on the body of his former manservant.

“Right then, yeah. This isn’t the end for Arthur and Merlin. Once and Future King and all that,” Merlin quipped, looking up at the canopy above him. He wished he could have slept in this bed just once.

“Not Once and Future Manservant,” Arthur puffed.

“True, but surely I’ve merited a spot beside you in the years to come. I didn’t wash your socks for this to be it.” Merlin carefully kept his panic hidden as his body began to tremble.

“What if…” Arthur sucked in more air. “What if I can’t… find you,” he breathed out again, his breaths sounding wet. “Find you… in the next life.”

“Well of course I’ll have to do all the work, Arthur. I wouldn’t trust you to find north.”

Arthur wheezed out a sad laugh.

“After… When I’m gone you have to ride. Ealdor. Gwen. Take care of Gwen,” Arthur coughed again.

“Arthur you shouldn’t keep talking,” Merlin soothed.

“No. No I need… The knights. Leon. Gwaine. Find their bodies. Honour them.” Arthur was convulsing much like Will had all those years ago, his cheeks stained with tears.

“Arthur –“

“Promise me… Merlin.” Arthur pleaded, locking eyes with him.

“I promise, Arthur!” Merlin cried, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth. Merlin couldn’t bear to lie to him, though he wished for Arthur to leave this world with a clear mind and the knowledge that things would be taken care of. 

_“Thank you, Merlin.”_

“Thank _you_ , Arthur. It’s been an honour,” Merlin spoke around the lump in his throat as the body beside him relaxed and the air became quieter still. He cried shamelessly in to Arthur’s shoulder as the spirit of his King was taken from him, on its way to a restful sleep beyond the gates of Avalon.

As he himself began to fade he whispered a promise in to the air; one that he hoped he might keep.

“I’ll always find you, Arthur Pendragon. Always.”


End file.
